


Mamma Mia (The SHIELD Remix)

by sendal



Category: Mamma Mia! (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Post Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-06-30 21:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15759825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sendal/pseuds/sendal
Summary: All Peter Parker Coulson wants for his wedding to be perfect is for his father to walk him down the aisle. But which father? According to his dad Phil's diary, it could be rich Tony Stark, brainy Bruce Banner, or Hollywood B-actor Clint Barton. Three secret wedding invitations, one sunny Greek island, a villa full of improbable song and dance numbers --it's Mamma Mia, SHIELD-style!





	1. Chapter 1

“I have a dream,” Peter sang to himself, alone in a boat on the dark ocean. “A song to sing…”

Above him, the stars and moon over the island of Kalokairi sent down a silver path across the calm waves. Pulling on the wooden oars, Peter felt simultaneously calm and terrified, determined and anxious. Singing kept him focused and prevented him from chickening out of what might be the worst decision of his young life.

Or maybe it was the best decision ever. 

Well, aside from marrying his boyfriend Sky, who right now thought Peter was off shopping for wedding stuff and not sneaking off to mail three secret invitations.

Three invitations, three potential guests. 

Three total strangers.

And one of them was his father.

As a child, Peter had often been curious. He loved his dad but most kids had two parents, right? It didn’t seem fair that Peter only had one. Whenever asked, Phil would smile and only say that it was summer romance, ended as quickly as it had begun. Besides, he said, it didn't matter. They had each other, and the beautiful Greek isles, and their charming little hotel high above the beach.

But now Peter was getting married, and he wanted his father to walk him down the aisle.

Clint Barton. Bruce Banner. Tony Stark. Each of them was listed in his dad's old diary as a romantic partner the summer before Peter was born. Peter knew that he met the one was his real father, he'd feel an instant sizzle of recognition. A family tie that couldn't be denied. The hole he'd felt in his chest all these years would be filled, and Peter could start his married life with Sky without that old nagging emptiness.

At the pier, Peter tied up the rowboat and sprinted up the old white steps to the postbox. In the moonlight, with the sea breeze gentle against his face, he double-checked the addresses. Clint in California. Bruce in India. Tony in New York. He hoped the invites made it to their destinations, that his real father said yes, that destiny and fate and all the bright stars over Kalokairi lined up to give Peter this one thing he'd always wanted. 

"I have a dream," Peter whispered, and sent the invitations away to the world.


	2. Chapter 2

" -- wedding in Greece -- " Pepper was saying, and Tony only caught that much because he'd momentarily silenced his drill. As much as he counted on Pepper Potts to keep him organized and productive, he couldn't be bothered with listening to every single thing she wanted him to know. Life was too short, robots too broken, yada yada yada. With a forlorn look at his empty coffee cup he rolled backward on his stool to the fill-er-up station he’d created himself, watched the elixir of life drop in a steady stream already pre-loaded with his favorite flavors, and rolled himself back to the task at hand. 

Right now he had a million more important things to do than fix a vacuum cleaner, but this morning the little sucker had run right into Tony's foot. Tony valued his toes as much as he valued his multinational companies and was determined to avoid any more collisions. 

Pepper was silent, her eyebrows arched. Waiting for an answer, then. Tony cast backward in his mind to find the question. 

"I don't know anyone in Greece," Tony said. "Aside from the president, that bastard. He still owes me a yacht."

"You owe him," Pepper said. "You lost the bet."

Tony shrugged. "It was rigged. He cheats. Who's getting married?"

"Peter Coulson."

"Never heard of him."

"Son of Philip Coulson, residing in Kalokairi."

Tony picked up the drill again. "Still never heard of - wait, Phil Coulson?"

"Yes."

"Phil Coulson," Tony mused, as his very good memory conjured up the memory of sunlight, smooth warm skin, and a cliff top room with a view of the ancient Aegean. That summer seemed like an impossibly long time ago, but sitting on the lab stool he could smell the sea and Phil's soap and the big black horse whose stable was directly under the bedroom. "That's a trip down memory lane I didn't expect to make today."

Pepper's gaze narrowed. "A pleasant one, it seems."

"Exceptionally pleasant," Tony smirked. "Say yes. Let's go."

"I'll make your travel arrangements." Pepper studied the tablet in her hand. "Now, about the board meeting--" 

She was as cool and professional as always, unflappable, but Tony could picture her on that beach on Kalokairi, laughing, singing, dancing -- everyone sang and danced on the island, it was like some weird Hellenic rule -- and so he rolled his stool toward the doorway.

"You have to come," he said. "You don't know what kind of havoc I might wreak left to a weekend of debauchery."

Pepper's expression twitched. "I know exactly what kind of debauchery you're capable of."

He gave her his best puppy eyes. "So I need supervision. Otherwise who's going to prevent another one of those ridiculous international scandals?" 

For a moment he thought she might say yes. He could order her to go, surely, but what was the fun in that? Despite all his night-time fantasies about her, Tony still respected Pepper's steadfast refusal to date him. Mostly respected. Kalokairi might provide the perfect opportunity to romance her the way he always wanted to. 

"Rhodey will supervise," Pepper said, just a hint of tension in her voice, and then turned away to answer her ringing phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, commenting, and playing along...so much fun to write but even more fun to share. :-)
> 
> {{spoilers for Mamma Mia 2}}
> 
> *  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> Tony's throwaway memory about the horse is a callout to Mamma Mia 2, but really now, when young Donna arrives on Kalokairi and just moves into the abandoned house, what is she thinking? Like, hey, here's some property that's not mine, I'll just take over? I'm just thinking that a valedictorian at Oxford would be more cautious about illegal squatting. Still, it's a pretty darn nice place . . .


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce's first mistake was looking through the mail. Once a week it came up from the village, a sack heavy with scientific journals, personal mail, and correspondence from all over the world. He told himself he was only going to browse through the topmost journal in the stack, but twenty minutes later he was still standing by his desk, his tea gone cold, engrossed in a study of neuroplasticity. 

Voices drifted in from the big open windows as students crossed the courtyard toward the morning yoga class, but he paid scant attention. The ashram had thirty visitors in residence and his job--director, guru, medic, carpenter--kept him busy day to night, so reading was a luxury he treasured but rarely indulged in.

The article was promising but needed better peer review. Bruce finally put it aside, planning a stern letter to the editor, and then sorted through the rest of the stack. A pretty envelope postmarked in Greece caught his attention.

"Dr. Banner," said a voice at the door. Betty, the institute's super-efficient secretary,, accountant, webmaster, and cook. For years he'd been trying to get her to call him Bruce. Unruffled by the heat, beautiful as ever in a long loose dress, she said, "You're needed in the clinic. Ms. Gilbert has an upset tummy."

"I told her she wouldn’t like that curry." Bruce fished a letter opener out of a tin cup of pencils and sliced open what proved to be a wedding invitation. “Give her an antacid.”

The invitation flummoxed him for a moment before he remembered Phil Coulson. But once remembered, he found himself smiling. Once upon a time, in a long-ago summer that was over too soon, Bruce had been an itinerant grad student sailing the dark blue Aegean in his uncle’s leaky boat. He'd met Phil on a dock on Hydra, both of them young and carefree and eager to find themselves. For one magical week they’d found much more. 

Betty said, “You know she likes your personal attention. And we like her generous donations to the operating fund.”

Bruce thumbed the careful embossing on the card. Fond memories aside, Phil had no reason to invite him to the wedding of his son all these years later. But the sunny Greek isles, and the prospect of sailboating again after all these dry years in India -- and the chance to see Phil--

He dug around his desk for a magazine he’d bookmarked and surfaced with the information about the Athens conference on the Maladaptation of Sensory Systems. The dates aligned perfectly. 

“Dr. Banner,” Betty said, more pointedly, as the ashram bells began ringing. 

Bruce looked up with a smile. “Namaste, Betty. I’m going to Greece.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading -- I hope you enjoy. Special shout out in this chapter to Eat Pray Love fans!


	4. Chapter 4

Clint Barton cracked one eyelid open and immediately regretted it. Harsh sunlight, the smell of the ocean, a headache threatening to split his skull open, and a scowling Natasha. He didn't deserve any of it.

"Idiot," she said.

"I want a do-over," he grumbled.

"I want an A-list client who has some small shred of common sense and self-preservation in his body. But I've got you." 

Although every bone in his body protested it, Clint slowly sat up. As he moved, the ice bag he'd wedged against his right knee slid off to the dirty blue carpet. The afternoon sunlight made him reach for his sunglasses. He loved this beat-up Malibu trailer and the sliding door that looked out to the rolling blue Pacific. He just wished he'd had his assistant order those light-blocking window shades. 

He also wished he still had an assistant.

Natasha watched without pity. "You can't keep doing this to yourself."

"No one else is doing my stunts." Clint fumbled for the water glass and tried to open the pill bottle beside it, but the stupid childproof cap defeated him. "Just me."

"You're going to get killed doing your own stunts," Natasha predicted. She popped open the pill bottle for him, took one for herself, and drank from his water glass. "No action adventure franchise is worth your gruesome death."

"You can't take my prescription," Clint protested. 

"My period is killing me." Natasha dropped into the chair nearby, looking as glamorous and unperturbed as any star of the silver screen. Clint was waiting for the day she quit being his long-suffering agent and instead became a film celebrity, but she always said the only audience she wanted was a cowering producer. Smoothly she continued, "I told them you'll be back next week."

Clint frowned. "I can't skip that much time." 

"Tom Cruise won’t miss you.” Natasha opened her slim briefcase and leafed through some envelopes she’d already slitted open. "Your brother wrote again. The jailhouse stationery is improving. Also your niece wants you to get her a Hollywood internship. She's twelve, so that's a no. And some kid in Greece invited you to his wedding. The name is Peter Coulson."

Later, Clint would blame his headache -- and bruised ribs, and wrenched knee -- for not immediately recognizing the last name Coulson. Then again, he hadn't heard it in years. Twenty years, in fact--

"Let me see," he told her, and when he saw Phil's name inside the card his headache suddenly felt better. Tremendously better. He could almost forget this morning's set accident, and the fact that after all these years in the industry he hadn't won even a People's Choice award, and the sad fact that he was only living in this trailer because he'd let his ex-husband Matt Bomer keep the house on the hill. Matt had also kept their cat, their Mercedes, and their assistant Darcy. Well, Matt’s assistant. His career had always eclipsed Clint’s, as both of them were well aware. 

"You can't go to Greece," Natasha said, reading something in his face. "After these scenes you’ve got that commercial--"

"You can come," Clint replied. "Don't you want to visit the sunny, romantic Aegean?"

"Romance is for children."

"You're going to love it," Clint predicted, arms thrown wide, and accidentally whacked his hand against the lamp. It tottered and crashed to the floor.

"Idiot," Natasha said.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you like, more chapters coming soon because it's the fanfic bunny that just won't get out of my head!


End file.
